Bouillabaisse, Le Central, Denver


A friend who I have not seen in over a year called to go over to the Art Museum next door to view an exhibition featuring Italian Renaissance paintings. But first we would have lunch. We decided, he decided, on Le Central, which so happens to be one of my favorite nearby spots. 


This is John ↓ at the bottom of the steps. 



Street level enclave that faces the steps to go up ↑, hanging to the right off the steps ↓



Top of the steps inside the door ↓.


Something on the floor ↓ probably covering an unsightly gap.


Unmannered cow ↓.



We bakers know a baguette when we see one, and this is no baguette. It's not bad, mind you, it's just not something from an actual boulangerie. It is not something made from scratch or proofed in their own kitchen either. What is it then? It is frozen bread from a supplier, or I will eat my hat, and by 'hat' I mean my own bread in the shape of a hat. How do I know this? Too dense. Lacks character. And who do they think they're fooling anyway? Not me, that's for sure. I can do better myself here at home, I do better myself all the time. 

John had the skirt steak. They called it something fancy which I forget, actually I never really paid attention. I was amazed how quickly he cleared his plate.


Here's the thing: I ordered the bouillabaisse to write over the memory of the last disappointing bouillabaisse that I had at Bittersweet. Now here are two places that should know how to put together a great bouillabaisse and there is no excuse not to. 

I did not detect a trace of saffron in either one of them. Here at least there was toast with rouille, but to be honest about it, I could have cranked out a more interesting rouille at ten years of age. ← Possible 12% customary hyperbole for dramatic effect. Insufficient oil, insufficient heat, too much breadcrumbs. Look, diners are spreading it on bread, why then stuff the rouille full of breadcrumbs? That's putting bread on top of bread. Yes, it is an ingredient, but not so much of it, eh. Again, no detectable saffron and no spice or heat or garlic at all.

I will not say that I have complaints because there is nothing to complain about, but here are my disappointments. The broth is uninteresting. The seafood heated in the broth is also uninteresting and low quality. No lobster, no crab, no clams, no whitefish, tiny 100-130 shrimp, itty-bitty teeny-weeny bay scallops, small mussels, which is the house speciality, is the only shellfish still with their shells on. There was nothing hanging out of the bowl like a crab leg or something to make you go, "WOW." And then again the rouille could appeal only to the lowest common dining denominator. 

Must I do this myself? FINE! I will then. 

I will go out and scrounge up all kinds of interesting seafood things, even here, this far inland it is still quite possible. I will make the most amazing seafood broth that I ever tasted. And it will be a seafood broth and not some tomato-based soup or some other crap nondescript characterless liquid. I will whip out a rouille that knocks my own socks off, or else instantly curls my hair with satisfaction if my socks are already off. That's what I'll do, you just watch. 


Finally, I will add something. Being a waiter or waitress is not an easy job, and it is not for just anybody. It is like keeping several balls in the air at one time and there is a dreadfully lot of running back and forth. "Get me this," and "get me that", a worker does their best to maximize their passes. But I maintain, it is so annoying to be deep in conversation, and I am always in conversation deeply, then have the waiter or waitress fly up to the table and interject "How'z everything?" And then later, "Doing fine?" Then later again with the abrupt interruptions "Dessert?" It's those inept interruptions that I object to. I do not have an answer for this. Unless the place is already overstaffed it is unreasonable to expect them to wait for an opening then deftly slide in. I've seen that done and I know that it is possible, but not usually and not all the time. It takes a high skill. 

The Renaissance exhibit is mostly what you would expect it to be. Everything was religious. Lots of religious symbolism, especially in the plants and flowers. Oddly, I didn't see anything on the placards about the Medici which I did expect to see but didn't. The exhibit is spread out over several galleries, as museums are fond of doing, all of the background design is quite good. None of the guards accosted me about my camera which I expected at least to be warned about which of course is reason enough to start snapping away, but for some reason I didn't bother. You know, I sort of hate to say this, but when you see these things all cleaned up after seeing them your whole life in books, the real deal is a bit underwhelming. I was underwhelmed. Modern artists do as well. The history of art is definitely not in a state of steady decline. I must hasten to add, there were a few there that are superlatively outstanding that I never saw before. We went through rather quickly. There were not many people there at all. This is a Friday afternoon. John and I chatted it up with the guards who were very congenial, and apparently desperate for conversation. 

This is what you see when you leave the Museum. This ↓ is a portion of the library that looks like a helipad, and this ↓↓ is the new expanded justice building going up across the street from my home north half a block. 



Presently there are helicopters flying around continuously in steady repositioning, probably from Ft. Carson to parts unknown. Were I not an Air Force brat they'd be annoying as gnats. I can see why miscreants are sometimes tempted to laser pilots. 

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